


Aureole of Vice

by daredevilmoon



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 17:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4487958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daredevilmoon/pseuds/daredevilmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Philip had always, far before he ought to have done, had a strange willingness to give himself over to Thomas; there was an inherent sort of trust there which Thomas couldn’t explain and asking was opening himself up to a sense of pity he didn’t want. Instead, he accepted it as though it was his right - with Philip, if no one else, it was. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aureole of Vice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Thomas lay half-curled on his side between Philip’s legs, the elbow of his free arm on the other side of Philip’s hip, propping himself up as he sucked leisurely at Philip’s prick. In other circumstances, he may have been inclined to move with a little more haste, but he knew Philip liked the look of the thing - liked watching Thomas’s lips wrap around him.

“You - you ought to bugger me. After,” he added quickly, feeling Thomas still. Thomas moved off him, just enough to speak; Philip ran a thumb against his swollen, slick bottom lip. Thomas grinned, taking the digit into his mouth before releasing it. Philip’s fingertips danced once over his cheek.

“If ya’d like. Why?”

“You haven’t ever.”

“I’m aware,” Thomas said, humming a laugh as he slipped the sound over Philip’s cock once more. Puns aside, it wasn’t a sore point: Thomas like Philip inside of him, Philip liked to be inside of him, that had been that. Still, the chance was once he wouldn’t miss in order to fall back on old favourites. He hummed again, this time his agreement, and felt Philip’s nails brush his scalp in warning.

 

Philip had always, far before he ought to have done, had a strange willingness to give himself over to Thomas; there was an inherent sort of trust there which Thomas couldn’t explain and asking was opening himself up to a sense of pity he didn’t want. Instead, he accepted it as though it was his right - and with Philip, if no one else, it was. And it had been bizarrely reciprocal from start.

This, though not required, seemed the most natural thing in its turn.

“Cup your hand,” Thomas said, curling Philip’s fingers up as he did so. “You can do some of the work.”

“You like the work,” Philip said. He cupped his hand obligingly and held it up, letting Thomas pour the oil into his palm. He laughed to himself, followed with, “We must always smell wonderful.”

Thomas smirked and shook his head, corking the bottle and leaning over dangerously to set it on the floor by the bed. He righted himself and, for a long moment, simply stared; Philip looked rather like an offering to himself. Thomas reached up and touched his Adam’s apple; a test. Philip’s head tilted back, protruding it further beneath Thomas’s two fingertips and he pressed down, hard. Philip’s breath made the sound of needle mis-stepping on the Gramophone, but he left his throat as vulnerable; Thomas’s prick twitched.

He joined his other fingers as he dragged the touch down Philip’s front, nails taking the fore as he scratched him hard enough to leave red-skinned trails where one could see beneath his hair. Philip’s own free hand was leaving matching marks against his hip in wait.

“You can hurt me,” Philip prefaced, tilting his head down to watch Thomas dip his fingers in his palm. “You needn’t be careful. I know it hurts.”

“It doesn’t need to,” Thomas said, following down the seam of Philip’s perineum. He was personally acquainted with the fact that it could, thank you Philip, but Philip wouldn’t want to explain at any engagements the next day how he’d hurt himself, wouldn’t want to come up with the lies. Thomas told him as much and Philip huffed a little laugh as Thomas pressed fingers against his hole.

“Next time, then. Fair play,” he said, words falling to a sort of breathiness as Thomas sunk a finger inside of him.

Thomas had noticed that Philip would say things like of occasion - offering himself further by way of his predilection for pain, for bonding the two of them through its particular intimacy. Thomas liked that for its strangeness, for belonging so purely to them; he wasn’t hurting Philip as he was currently being asked-by-way-of-offer, but twisted the fist of his free hand tightly around the skin of his stomach, making the muscle tighten beneath it. Philip lifted his hips, rocked them down onto Thomas’s hand.

They had done this before, had taken their time, their turns in exploring with fingers and lips, tongues. This was nothing new and always as riveting, watching the strangeness of the sensation work its way over Philip’s guttering mouth, soundless. He pressed a second finger into that tight heat, the slickness welcoming his touch as ran he twisted his fingers. Thomas stroked him and felt that hardness, watched the never-familiar pleasure flutter over Philip’s face, watched his hips fuck down Thomas’s fingers in a way that went to Thomas’s head. He repeated the motion once more before he withdrew.

“Don’t,” Philip breathed, grabbing out for Thomas. Oil dripped down Thomas’s thigh where their skin met and Thomas smeared it upward, catching what he could on his own hand and stroking his own cock twice. If he let Philip do it, he’d probably come off and spoil the plan.

“Keep - Christ,” he murmured, pressing his tip against Philip’s hole and already felt a jolt of raw pleasure; no wonder Philip liked this. “Keep your mouth open.”

Philip said nothing, but obliged Thomas - panting quietly. In turn, Thomas obliged him - pushing his way from tip to base in a single stroke, Philip’s pained surprise tearing quickly through the air unmuffled.

“Christ - Christ," Philip repeated, voice hot with unshed tears. Thomas took a moment’s stillness to appreciate the depth of sensation, how almost sickeningly wonderful Philip felt around his cock. How entirely perfect.

Thomas laid himself down over Philip, catching him up in a frantic kiss which turned into a twisted moan between them, pleasure and pain, as Thomas drove himself into Philip once more. Philip was carving into Thomas’s lower back with an earned hurt and neither of them moved to end the kiss, though it slipped from mouth to sweat-slicked cheeks pressing against one another.

A ragged gasp of hurt rose to Thomas’s ear before it was run through with another pure in lust, the first - that sound wrapped itself around Thomas’s prick, sure as Philip’s heat. Burying his face in Philip’s shoulder, he came off with groan which seemed to rattle them both to breaking point.

 

 

They lay like that a long while, absently petting one another’s hair and struggling to find their own breaths amidst the tangle, though they gladly put pieces of one another’s self in for their own. 

Thomas slid himself without Philip, new pieces in place tightly enough that he didn’t feel bereft at the lack of contact. He kissed Philip’s jaw softly, in apology if it were required - though he doubted it would be - and repeated it again until Philip turned, met his mouth.

“You’re sure to de be the death of me. You’ll be the cause of my dukedom’s end,” Philip murmured, resting his head sleepily back. Thomas ran his fingers through the hair over his collarbone, slipping from atop Philip to his side. He urged Philip to roll over, wrapping an arm about his waist and drawing him down, flush to his front. Philip lay his head on Thomas’s chest, eyes shut; Thomas buried a kiss in his hair.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked. Philip hummed, skimming his fingers over Thomas’s ribs as he nodded. “Sorry.”

“I like when you do. When I ask,” he added, situating himself closer so a leg rested between Thomas’s.

 “Will you let me do it again?”

“Yes. Though,” he yawned. “Though perhaps cancel my engagements next time.”


End file.
